


sweet sister of mine

by miss_universe



Series: oh, sweet sister of mine [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Crack Treated Seriously, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, F/M, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-05
Updated: 2019-07-06
Packaged: 2020-06-16 13:32:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19651309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miss_universe/pseuds/miss_universe
Summary: Jaime isn’t the only one with a sister.





	1. jaime

Brienne of Tarth, Jaime mused as he watched her start a fire, was absolutely full of surprises. Maybe that was why he had saved her, because she was such a novelty in such a cruel world. Goodness seemed to pour from her, infecting everyone around her. Barely a woman, but enough bravery and kindness for ten knights over with some to spare. It had felt wrong to leave her at Harrenhal, something inside of him not letting him have peace until he had turned around to go get her. Rescue her, more like.    
  
She was a mystery. A puzzle to crack. He never liked either, and yet something about her made him look closer. He wanted to know everything about the woman who looked at the Kingslayer with such respect, who believed his word and called him Ser Jaime.   
  
He didn’t know much about her. He knew of Tarth, had heard a few things about the Sapphire Isles, but never much about the people who lived there. He resolved to change that. He had risked his life for this woman, surely that was worth a few answers. And she knew all of his darkest secrets. He had bared his soul to her, and he hoped she would eventually do the same in return. Why he felt such a burning curiosity towards the woman was a question he didn’t want look too closely at.   
  
The Maid of Tarth was so stern, however, it would be a challenge. It was a good thing Jaime liked challenges. When he was her prisoner, getting her to respond to him was like trying to get blood out of stone. Of course, now he wouldn’t be taunting her, and he wasn’t her prisoner, so maybe it would be easier to have a conversation with the woman.   
  
“What do you think will happen to Locke?” Jaime asked idly, watching the fire start to grow with her efforts. “If he’s smart, he’ll take the Black before my father gets his hands on him.”   
  
“He won’t live that long.” Brienne replied quietly, her tone firm and solid, as if she had absolutely no doubts about it. The strange certainty of her answer made Jaime curious.   
  
“How do you figure?”   
  
Brienne didn’t respond, instead staring at the dark woods around them with a wary eye. Bolton’s men had made camp across the road, and Jaime had insisted on him and Brienne camping a bit away. He had just saved her from rape, and he didn’t trust those men as far as he could throw them.    
  
And he only had two hands now, which made it not very far indeed.   
  
A twig cracked, close enough that Jaime flinched in surprise, the sudden sound breaking the silence between them. He was suddenly on guard, but Brienne seemed relaxed as ever, her eyes moving from the woods around them to the fire.    
  
“I had four siblings, you know.” She said suddenly, and his attention turned from the area around them to the woman he was sitting across from. “First came Galladon. The son my father always wanted. The heir. After him it was me, then my two sisters who died not long after their birth, taking my mother with them.”    
  
She paused, blue eyes flicking up to see if he was paying attention. He was. This was probably the most he had ever heard Brienne of Tarth say, and he was hanging on to every word in rapt attention.    
  
“When I was five, a woman and her child came to Tarth. My father had left behind a bastard from before he and my mother were married. My father legitimized her, and she lived with us despite being about ten years older than me. I loved her. Was closer to her than anyone else. And she was so protective of me, because I was the only one who paid attention to her and loved her back.”   
  
She took a deep breath in, then continued her tale.    
  
“Galladon was - cruel, sometimes. When no one was around, he would pick fights with me, or sneak into my room in the middle of the night and cut off some of my hair. Things like that. I think he was jealous that I spent so much time with our sister and not him.”   
  
Somewhere behind him, the leaves rustled. The light from the fire made strange, dark shadows appear on Brienne’s face. Jaime felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, suddenly on edge without knowing exactly why. He straightened up, his muscles tensing.   
  
“One day he broke my wrist.” She said in a cool, detached voice, as if reciting a lesson from a septa. “My sister made me tell her the truth about how it happened.”    
  
Jaime clenched his jaw, a startling rush of anger filling him at her tale. He could imagine a five-year old Brienne, wide-eyed and innocent dealing with her brother’s cruelty stoically.    
  
“The next day, Galladon was found drowned in the sea.”   
  
His eyebrows raised at that, noticing that Brienne had looked up from the fire to survey the woods once again.    
  
“Your sister-“ He asked, and she cut him off before the whole question could even form.   
  
“Yes.”    
  
Jaime let out a breath he felt like he had been holding in, unsure why exactly she felt the need to tell him of this, and a small, dark part of him viciously pleased that someone who had abused the Maid of Tarth was gone.    
  
“She swore she would protect me or avenge me, no matter what she had to do. And despite her flaws, I still loved her. So I let her get away with it. We were very close, and even when she wasn’t with me, I knew she still knew how I was. We parted once I left to enter Renly’s army.”   
  
Brienne’s eyes moved from his face to something behind him, and he stiffened.    
  
“Of course, she wouldn’t let me go without guarding me from the shadows, even if it would have taken her some time to catch up to me.” She said quietly. “She takes her vows as seriously as I do. So when you ask me why I am so certain that Locke will be dead soon - if he isn’t already, that is why.”   
  
Footsteps came from behind him. He went to grab his sword, but a sharp shake of Brienne’s head stopped him.   
  
“Hello, Phasma.”   
  


A voice answers her.

  
“Hello, sweet sister.”   
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> listeN, i know this is cracky and ooc as hell and probably won’t work if you look at it too closely but tbh i just love phasma and can absolutely see her in the GOT universe.
> 
> thinking about maybe making this a series of drabbles spanning from here to season eight, lemme know in the comments if you wanna see that, but for now it’s marked as complete!


	2. phasma

Phasma of Tarth was tired, hungry, dirty and pissed to Seven Hells. And it wasn’t even the good kind of pissed either, the kind that would eventually find herself in bed with a whore or two after a good fight. No, it wasn’t that kind of pissed, much to her irritation.   
  
“Dearest sister of mine, I’ve just heard the most interesting tale.” Phasma said, her voice betraying none of her emotions. “A fanciful story, really, of a woman who was sworn to a would-be king, who then murdered him and ran off with a Kingslayer, who then were captured and thrown into a bear pit alone - only for the Kingslayer to return for his Kingslaying woman! Isn’t that one of the most fascinating yarns you’ve ever heard?”    
  
As she spoke, she walked closer to her sister until she was standing in front of her, her eyebrows raised.   
  
Brienne looked up at her and met her eyes, anger clear on her face. “I did not kill Renly. You know damn well I didn’t.” She snapped back, making Phasma let out a small huff.    
  
“Of course I know that, but that doesn’t mean anyone else does. You’d never kill him, he was far too pretty.” Phasma replied, finally conceding a bit and sitting down next to her. The fire crackled, and she realized she was facing the Kingslayer, who was watching her with wary green eyes, looking every bit the lion he claimed to be.   
  
“Oh, so the Kingslayer part was true.” She murmured, reaching for the dagger she kept on her person, only for Brienne to grab her hand.    
  
“Enough, Phasma. It wasn’t anything like you’re insinuating. I swore a vow to Lady Catelyn, promising I would bring back Ser Jaime to King’s Landing for her daughters, Sansa and Arya Stark. We got captured by Locke and his men, who were going to - to force themselves on me. Ser Jaime stopped them, losing his hand because of it. We were brought to Bolton who was going to bring Ser Jaime home. I stayed behind, and Locke threw me into the bear pit. He came back and saved me.”   
  
Phasma listened to her sister’s story with growing alarm, gritting her teeth when she heard about Locke and his men.    
  
“Ah, you make it sound so simple when you say it like that. Have you never heard of dramatic flair?” The Kingslayer finally spoke, making Brienne frown at him.    
  
“That’s what happened.” She replied, and the Kingslayer huffed.    
  
“Yes, but you make it sound so boring. How is that possible?” His voice had a mocking edge to it, but not a cruel one. Instead it was like the japing between friends. “Now, aren’t you going to introduce me?”   
  
Brienne flushed at her rudeness and said formally, “This is Phasma of Tarth, my sister. And he is-“   
  
“I know who he is.” Phasma interrupted her, eyeing the Lannister warily. “Hello, Kingslayer.”    
  
  
The lion looked back at her and made a parody of a smile. He opened his mouth to reply, but Brienne beat him to it. “He is a knight of the Seven Kingdoms, Phasma. Call him by his name, call him Ser Jaime.” Phasma felt her eyebrow lift before she could control it. The Kingslayer - Ser Jaime - didn’t respond, just looked at her sister with clear admiration and respect. He looked less like a lion then and more of a pup.   
  
Phasma decided magnanimously to let that go until she could speak with her sister alone, instead deciding to focus on her more urgent matters. “Sister, please tell me you have a drink on you. Killing is thirsty work.”   
  
Brienne’s bright blue eyes snapped to hers immediately, muscles tensing up. She was such an open book. “Who?” She asked quietly, her face betraying her disappointment. It was a good thing Phasma had trained herself out of giving into that look.   
  
“Better hope it wasn’t Bolton’s men, or else we’ll be in serious shit.” Lannister threw in, making Phasma’s irritation rise the slightest bit.   
  
“Of course it wasn’t, who do you think I am? Your escorts are safe as can be, snug in their camp. It’s Locke who isn’t breathing anymore.” She said, leaning on her sister as she took the water-skin from her hands and taking a few large gulps of it. Brienne just sighed in response, but allowed Phasma to rest against her.   
  
“We should get some sleep. Steelshanks is on watch, so it should be fine if we all rest.” Brienne said. The Lannister hummed in agreement, clearly tired. He looked slightly unwell, but Phasma assumed that was from the trauma of losing his hand.    
  
The trio got ready for bed, Brienne putting out the fire and Phasma munching on some stale bread before laying down next to her sister.    
  
She closed her eyes and listened to two sets of breathing slow and settle, finally letting herself feel aching relief after knowing they were asleep. Brienne was still alive, mostly unharmed and unmolested. She was safe and Westeros hadn’t gotten its dirty, infected claws into her yet. She sent a silent thank you to the Seven for her own personal miracle.    
  
Of course, she didn’t owe her thanks just to the Seven. A Lannister saved her. The Kingslayer. She was grateful.    
  
That didn’t mean she didn’t have to threaten him of course.    
  
Phasma had only laid next to Brienne for what felt like only minutes before she silently got up, pulling her dagger out of her belt and walking over to the sleeping man laying across from them.   
  
With a small sigh, she knelt over the Kingslayer, then dropped her weight on him, straddling his chest and pressed her left hand against his mouth with one move, her right hand bringing the dagger right up to his throat. He woke up immediately after she touched him, breathing heavily with wild eyes as he made eye-contact with her.    
  
“Listen up, Kingslayer.” She whispered harshly, half her focus on making sure Brienne was still sleeping across from them. “My sister has decided to trust you - which means you get to live. But if you harm her in any way, I will make sure you suffer.”    
  
The Kingslayer didn’t look appropriately cowed, so she decided to continue, aiming at a well-known pressure point. “You have the most beautiful niece, don’t you?” At that, his eyes narrowed and a truly hateful expression crossed his face. Phasma felt a smirk grow on her face at his reaction.    
  
“Yes, that’s right. I heard she’s a beauty, with long blond hair and green eyes. A Lannister _through_ and _through_. Would be an absolute shame if an innocent got hurt, hm?” She crooned, pressing the blade just a bit more into his neck.   
  
A pause happened, one where she was half convinced the stupid man would try to fight her. He would lose, which would mean Phasma would have to kill him, which would make Brienne upset. Luckily the Lannister decided to nod, just once, small enough that her blade wouldn’t nick his skin.   
  
“Good choice.” She hissed, smoothly hopping off his body and tucking her blade back.   
  
“You know, I would’ve protected her anyway.” The Kingslayer hissed at her, “and I don’t think I like you very much.”   
  
“I’ll be weeping into my pillow tonight, Kingslayer.” Phasma replied back dryly, laying back down next to her sister, listening to the still slightly-rapid breathing of a Lannister.    
  
She had a feeling she would get her blade a lot bloodier before she returned to Tarth.   
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yall, this is now a series!!! lemme know in the comments if you’re enjoying or if you wanna see more of this ‘verse!!

**Author's Note:**

> listeN, i know this is cracky and ooc as hell and probably won’t work if you look at it too closely but tbh i just love phasma and can absolutely see her in the GOT universe.
> 
> thinking about maybe making this a series of drabbles spanning from here to season eight, lemme know in the comments if you wanna see that, but for now it’s marked as complete!


End file.
